Under Suspicion
by MusketeerAdventure
Summary: This story takes place during the season two episodes, The Accused and Trial and Punishment. d'Artagnan beaten; Constance rescued; the flight to sanctuary; reunited with Porthos; Aramis returned; King Louis learns the truth; the Musketeers are finally home, and d'Artagnan proposes marraige. This is my take on all those missing moments ! I hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

Under Suspicion

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: This takes place during the season two episode, The Accused. This is my take on, that in between space of time, where after d'Artagnan is beaten and before Constance is rescued.

Aramis was arrested; Dr. Lemay dead; and Constance imprisoned for the attempted assassination of the King. What else could happen?

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How was he to get d'Artagnan out of this chaos of what had once been the home of their monarch?

Now, it had become a battleground, where a standoff between the Red Guards and the Musketeers commenced. It was ironic that both entities had sworn to protect the King and his family from assassins and insurgents; and at present the Musketeers were treated as the insurrectionaries.

The room was suffocating. The Red Guard outnumbering them ten to one, causing the heat in the room to rise; and tensions to escalate.

Rochefort could be heard spewing accusations with a hint of mirth and a touch of madness. His unfounded and or unproven suspicions hurled like gunfire. It had all gone to hell.

The Queen, taken before their eyes, accused of treason – while the King sat in hiding shrinking from his duties and responsibilities, leaving Rochefort to spread insanity in his name.

Aramis was arrested; Dr. Lemay dead; and Constance imprisoned for the attempted assassination of the King. Rochefort's accusations of Constance seemed to throw d'Artagnan into a tailspin.

What else could happen?

Athos looked over the sea of Red Guards before him, weapons pointed at the ready. Beside him stood d'Artagnan, crazed with worry and rage, ready to move through the wave of soldiers; his hand raised defending Constance. Athos could tell he was preparing to do battle, and would die here if he let things go too far. So, he grabbed and pulled on him, attempting to exit, and thought he might have to kill someone just to get them out.

d'Artagnan would not cooperate. He tried to extricate himself and go back. His eyes sparked murder and he knew his target was Rochefort.

But he took a handful of d'Artagnan's coat and shirt, and gripped hard – pushing him out and away, insisting, "We must go, before it is too late."

He continued to manhandle d'Artagnan and practically dragged him by the front of his shirt down the stairs and out into the open court yard. d'Artagnan seethed at him, trembled under his grasp, and cursed at him, attempting to loosen the grip. Athos held firm; this was not where their lives would end today.

The relative quiet of the outdoors was disconcerting. When he let go, d'Artagnan tried to move past him, his hand pulling at the hilt of his sword. Anger had taken hold of him.

Athos worried that if he went back in, he would not come out. Rochefort would have won. His plan to bring them low; the inseparables taken down in one blow, would give the man satisfaction. There was no doubt, he would reenter the palace and die at d'Artagnan's side, if he chose to override him and go back in. "I will kill him!" d'Artagnan shouted, moving back toward the stairs.

Athos stood in front of his fury and would not back down, pointing his finger into d'Artagnan's chest, piercing at his heart. He had to convince him, "You will regret this!" he yelled back. d'Artagnan shook his head no, and went to evade him.

He grabbed his shirt again, holding tight, "Constance. It is Constance you must see to now. If you do not take this chance to go see her, you may not get another."

d'Artagnan stopped his surge forward and removed his hand from the hilt of his sword, and curled his hands into fists. He could not think. He looked to Athos, who stared back at him, breathing hard. What was he to do? Rochefort could not be allowed to live. He condemned his life to death – and he to a living hell. Without Constance, he was nothing. Without Aramis, the inseparables would be no more, and he could not live with that.

Athos shook him slightly, and sought out his eyes, asking him to trust him. He knew he must turn the tide here, before he lost all of his brothers.

d'Artagnan took a deep and shuddering breath, and nodded finally in agreement. Yes, he must see to Constance. Athos was right. He must see her, and find a way to save her from certain death.

Athos removed his hand from the folds of his coat and shirt and clamped his hands down on his shoulders, "Let us go see her", he spoke softly. He moved away slowly and started for the path toward the holding cells, trusting d'Artagnan to come.

d'Artagnan stared up the palace stairs, torn between murderous rage, and seeing Constance. After a beat, he swiftly turned to follow.

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When they reached the outside of the prison grounds, Athos turned to his young friend, and held up his hand to hold him at bay, "Stay with me d'Artagnan", he instructed. "We will go in together." He wasn't sure how far they would get, but together, they stood a chance to see Constance without incident.

d'Artagnan had nodded at his orders, but his eyes were already gone – locked on the path to the prison to see Constance.

At the gate, Athos requested to see Constance Bonacieux. They were relieved of their weapons and the guard pointed out the area where Constance was being held. "You're not to go in, but you can see her from there", he commanded. And there, behind the iron at knee level, stood Constance staring out at them from below, holding onto the bars with a grip so tight, the whites of her knuckles stood out from this distance.

Athos nodded that he understood, and he and d'Artagnan began to walk in side by side.

And then it all crumbled. As they approached and moved closer, Constance began to scream d'Artagnan's name. Her pain and terror could be heard clearly.

d'Artagnan left his side and ran full speed to reach down to her outstretched hands. Athos tried to catch his arm, but to no avail. Once the guards took notice, two of them grabbed at Athos and pushed him back toward the entrance. When he tried to retaliate, they pulled their swords and pistols and pushed him out of the prison yard. He called to d'Artagnan, but Constance's terror was drowning him out.

He could see ahead d'Artagnan fighting off two of the Red Guards and sliding to his knees, grabbing on to Constance's hands. He could not understand what they were saying but heard her fear and d'Artagnan's urgency.

The guards pulled on d'Artagnan to get him away, but he had taken on superhuman strength, unwilling to let her go.

It took several of them to bring him away. But he would not stop reaching for her, and calling out to her. So they brought him down to the ground with all of the force they could muster. He fought wildly, in turn fueling their anger.

As they beat him about the back and torso, he screamed out his love for Constance, and promised to save her. When he would not stop yelling for her, they hit him about the face, and kicked him mercilessly in the ribs. Blood ran from his nose, mouth and ears as they punched him again and again. His head was ringing, but he could not stop fighting for her.

Athos heard the blows from where he stood outside the yard, staring down the men who held him at sword and gun point.

Then it was quiet. An unnatural vacuum descended. Athos held his breath. The air did not stir.

Suddenly he heard Constance scream d'Artagnan's name over and over. Her wailing pierced the stillness, the vacuum opened and sound crashed around them.

He went to move, but was held back, one sword point nicking his coat and piercing through his tunic, drawing blood.

One of the guards left from the yard, and approached him through the gate, "Go in and get him", he wheezed, as he wiped blood from his mouth. "And keep him away from here. She is to be executed tomorrow at dawn."

When he turned away, weapons were lowered, and he was pushed through the gate.

d'Artagnan lay sprawled at his feet, where they had dragged and dropped him like unwanted litter.

He fell to his knees, and looked down at his friend, not sure if he should touch him. Constance continued to scream with hysterical, out of control fear and concern. She must think him dead. He was so still.

Guards walked past them, continuing to deliver blows and kicks down on d'Artagnan as they walked by. Athos leaned over him to protect his prone form, receiving blows to his back and shoulders. He looked to each of these men and memorized their faces as they passed by – a plan of action already forming in his mind.

He could then hear d'Artagnan groaning beneath him. "Thank God", he whispered and touched his hair, afraid to touch anywhere else.

A cart and horse appeared in his vision and a Red Guard hopped down to kneel at his side – "The Lady DeWinter has sent me to take you from here."

Athos looked to the man in amazement, but did not question his declaration. "Help me then." They both stood and between them carried d'Artagnan to the cart and placed him at the back. There, Athos could see their weapons among the hay. He jumped to d'Artagnan's side and the guard took to the seat and urged the horse out of the yard.

"I'll take you where you want to go, and then I must leave you", he yelled over his shoulder.

Athos nodded and directed him to his lodgings. As they rode through the streets of Paris, Athos looked down at d'Artagnan and wondered at this turn of events. He had meant only to keep d'Artagnan safe, to see Constance, and find a way to release her.

What would he have done if this man had not shown up when he did? How was it that his wife had her hand in every aspect of palace life? He was grateful for her forward thinking and that she saw every opportunity, before it even presented itself.

d'Artagnan lay unmoving beside him, battered and bloodied – Constance's screams echoing in his head. He needed his brothers. He needed Aramis' steadiness and skill. He needed Porthos' strength and will. His gift was to act; but now he must attend to d'Artagnan and plan.

He stopped the man as they reached his lodgings, pulled d'Artagnan to the edge of the cart and placed him across his aching shoulders and back. He gathered their weapons and turned away from the cart.

It then took off, leaving him standing with d'Artagnan on the street before his residence. Curious on lookers and passer byes stared at him, pointing and whispering.

It was slow moving up the steps to his rooms with d'Artagnan's dead weight. He heard no sound from his friend, and feared his injuries must be severe. Did he do right by bringing him here?

It was too late for second guessing now.

Once at his door, he pushed in, swinging d'Artagnan onto his pallet, adjusting his limbs, pushing back his hair, and surveying the damage to his face.

He was not Aramis, but he knew where to begin. He removed his coat and threw it aside, and began to remove d'Artagnan's coat and then his shirt.

The damage was extensive, bruising across his rib cage, back and shoulders. He had cuts, bruises and blood on his face. Athos felt through his hair and found a lump at the back of his head. Nothing felt broken to him, as he palpated his ribs; felt down his arms and examined his legs.

He reached for a cloth and his ever present bucket of water, and began to wipe the blood from d'Artagnan's nose, mouth and ears. A groan escaped his lips and Athos let out a breath of relief. He stilled his hand and waited.

d'Artagnan frowned, but remained unconscious. After a moment he washed the blood from a cut at his hair line, lifted his head and placed the cool cloth at the back of his head, where he felt the lump.

d'Artagnan hissed in a breath, groaned and opened his eyes, blinking slowly.

Athos stared down at him, touching his chest, gauging his awareness.

d'Artagnan moved his head slowly, eyes adjusting to the room, understanding beginning to take hold, and Athos felt his body tense, and his heart beat race. Athos pressed his hand firmly down on his chest, and spoke with authority, "You are in my rooms. Constance is imprisoned. We will retrieve her in short order."

d'Artagnan stared straight into his eyes, relaxed, and then fell into unconsciousness once again. The unconditional trust in that brief exchange almost derailed him.

Athos sat for a moment and wondered at his promise. He made d'Artagnan as comfortable as he could and began to formulate his plan for rescue. He would not let him down. He knew d'Artagnan would not survive without Constance. If she were to die, this boy would be lost to him. He must plan to rescue two people by noon tomorrow.

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As time passed, Athos lit candles and tried to chase the darkness into the corners. Soon, Constance would be sent to her death.

Athos was anxious and uncertain of what he was doing. He had given d'Artagnan one of Aramis' mixtures for pain, but was not sure it was helping.

He had sent a neighbor's son to find Treville.

d'Artagnan lay on the pallet, and when not groaning in pain, he called for Constance, attempting to rise in his semi-conscious state to find her. After his last attempt, Athos held him down and promised, "We will bring her out."

d'Artagnan then lay back, breathing hard, trying to curl in on himself, but too overcome with pain to complete the act. Should he make more mixture? Should he send for a physician? Should he wait for Treville? He settled on more mixture, and lifted d'Artagnan's head to help him drink.

When d'Artagnan appeared finally at ease, he reached for his neck and felt natural warmth. He then felt for his life pulse, and his heart beat strong. Out of habit, he pushed his hair back from his face and felt his tension lighten with release. He then worked to put on d'Artagnan a clean shirt.

His limbs were limp and heavy, but once he was dressed, Athos looked down on him, and felt the crisis coming to an end. His choices had been correct. d'Artagnan was pale, but breathing the natural sounds of sleep.

To stop his brain from dwelling on his worry for his brothers he focused on his plan to rescue Constance. It was simple enough. But in order for it to succeed, he needed help. He needed Treville, and he needed d'Artagnan to be on his feet.

As he sat on the edge of the pallet, he placed his head in his hands, and listened as d'Artagnan dreamed. Watching him in distress pained him. He grasped d'Artagnan's hand and squeezed tight. He wished his brothers were here with him now. He felt incomplete without them, and not quite himself. And d'Artagnan needed him to be himself.

He took a cleansing breath, and attempted to calm his mind by bringing up the faces of the men who had beaten d'Artagnan. He had memorized their faces, and swore now, that part of his plan was to bring those particular men to justice for what they had done.

Then he heard the knock at the door, and opening it was relieved to see his Captain. Treville hurriedly strode into the room, and took in the situation, and Athos' demeanor. They held each other's forearms in greeting. "How are you? How is d'Artagnan?" he asked, as Athos closed the door behind him.

Athos bowed his head, and took strength from his Captain's presence, "He is battered, and in pain. I am not Aramis, but I believe he will recover."

They sat together at the only table, and Treville told him of Aramis, held along with Constance within the bowels of the prison. "They are holding up, despite the circumstances."

The situation was dire. He was called to meet with Rochefort on tomorrow, and be a witness to Constance's execution – his loyalty being called into question. The King was absent and in effect placing Rochefort in the seat of power.

Athos listened, and after a pause, shared his plan to rescue Constance.

Treville raised an eyebrow, "That is bold and ambitious - we three against practically the whole of the Red Guard."

Athos nodded at the assessment.

"And you think this will work?" Treville insisted.

Athos searched his Captain's face, "It must."

Treville sighed, "Then it will."

From the pallet, d'Artagnan rolled to his side, groaning and holding tight to his ribs. He took a breath and lifted himself to place his feet to the floor. Noticing the candle light, he peered through the dark spaces. "What is the hour?" he asked, his voice hoarse with calling out in his sleep.

Athos went to sit at his side, "Six hours before dawn."

d'Artagnan closed his eyes, "I did see her?" he asked uncertainly.

Athos nodded, "Yes."

d'Artagnan hitched in a breath, "I dreamed she was dead, and I thought all I had left was revenge."

Treville interjected, "She is alive, and Athos has a plan." He walked to the pallet and squeezed d'Artagnan's shoulder. "I will leave you to hear it, and will meet with you soon. Know that Constance will join us. We will bring her to safety."

d'Artagnan reached up and held onto Treville's hand, "Thank you Captain." The gratitude was heartfelt, and Treville squeezed his shoulder the harder for it.

Treville then exited quietly, leaving the two men seated side by side.

d'Artagnan turned his head to take in his friend, "Your plan", he pressed.

As Athos explained his plan of disguise, misdirection, and precision, d'Artagnan nodded with complete confidence in his friend's ability to strategize and to act.

He felt this would work. Athos was a genius. He trusted him completely.

Athos looked to his friend and studied him closely, "This will only work if we follow the plan as I have set it. We must not deviate." He pierced d'Artagnan with a steely gaze. "We must stick with the plan. Every move we make depends on the action before it."

d'Artagnan understood what he was saying. He must not take his chance at felling Rochefort. He must keep his heart in check. There would be another chance, another opportunity.

"The plan is to rescue Constance", Athos reiterated.

"I understand Athos, and I will follow your every order", he pledged to his friend.

"And I swear to you that we will all come out of this alive."

Athos then leaned back and examined his friend closely, noticing the lines of pain around his eyes, and the way he clutched at his ribs, "Can you stand?" he queried.

d'Artagnan pushed himself up from the pallet. Once on his feet he swayed slightly, and locked his knees. He looked down at his brother, gave a curt nod, and answered, "I can ride too."

Athos nodded back. His admiration for d'Artagnan's courage swelled his heart. He would do anything for him and forgo his own life if need be.

In a few hours they would leave here, rescue Constance, and run for their lives. He would stop at nothing to reunite his brothers. They would be outlaws, under suspicion for treason. But he would be undeterred. His duty was to his brothers and to France.

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Thank you for reading! Please review. I like hearing what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Under Suspicion Chapter 2

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: This chapter takes place during the season two episode, The Accused, during the missing time right after Constance's rescue and before the Musketeers rendezvous and are reunited.

Everything had worked, just as Athos had promised. His plan to rescue Constance was perfection.

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Chapter Two

Everything had worked just as Athos had promised. His plan to rescue Constance was perfection. He had never doubted.

The feel of Constance's arms encircling his waist bought on a sense of euphoria. With her here, he could do anything; endure anything; everything was now possible – even escape. He felt no pain associated with his encounter with the Red Guards the previous day. He felt only her body close to his; and relief that they were now headed away from Paris.

Athos and Treville rode before him, hard and fast. He followed swiftly in their wake, Constance's hold on him tight. She was so close he could feel her heartbeat at his back, quick and in time with the thundering of their horses' hooves.

He knew they were headed to Giverny, a small village on the outskirts of Paris, but all that mattered was Constance. She sat astride his horse, alive and with him.

Despite his fear and the unknown that stood before them, he was happy. He let go his rein and gripped her arm. She squeezed his waist tighter, and buried her head into the back of his shoulders.

What ever happened next, they were at least together. As long as she was by his side, they would get through this.

Athos held up his hand and called for them to halt. He and Treville pulled back on their reins and with deft command circled their mounts to a full stop. They stood deathly still with only their harsh breathing heard along with the snorting of the horses.

Athos then guided them into the tree line and down a slight ravine; and signaled for silence.

d'Artagnan had not heard pursuit, but he trusted Athos' instincts and gripped Constance's arms, which had not let go of him since their escape from the prison yard.

Their pursuers were no more than minutes behind them. As they waited, four riders swept by, hooves pounding and dust rising.

Athos held his fingers to his lips and after some moments led them further down the ravine. Their horses pranced downhill and kicked up dirt, skirted around fallen limbs, downed trees and large boulders.

It was precise going, but their mounts were well trained for the challenge. d'Artagnan patted his horse's neck as he urged her on.

When they reached the bottom, a stream bubbled before them. Athos waded in and bade the others to follow. They began their trek in water, hoping to cover their tracks and elude the Guard.

Treveille pulled close to Athos, "I will ride along the tree line, and alert you to anyone coming our way."

Athos nodded in agreement, and Treville left the water and took off at a gallop. d'Artagnan took his place, and rode at his side. His body tensed with apprehension and his eyes roamed the landscape. Constance continued to hold fast, and d'Artagnan could feel the tremors in her arms. He rubbed them to reassure her, but kept vigilant, staying alert for trouble.

Athos then looked to Constance, and notice that her eyes were wide and her lips were set in a firm line. He saw no anxiety on her face, only fierce determination; and there was something else, but he could not decipher it.

He inclined his head to her to show his respect and admiration. This was a strong woman, every bit d'Artagnan's equal. She nodded back at him, knowing that this man had a lot to do with her rescue and escape from execution.

They continued to walk their mounts at a steady pace in silence.

Constance took notice how in sync Athos and d'Artagnan were. They seemed to speak a language without words. Even their mounts walked in unison – left, right, left as if on parade.

After some time, Treville rejoined their number, "I see no pursuit", he informed them, "and suggest we rest our horses here."

Athos and d'Artagnan nodded in agreement. They left the water's edge, and found purchase on a wet bank. Trees lined the way some feet away.

Reaching back behind him, d'Artagnan began to help Constance slide from the back of his horse. When her feet touched the ground, she held on to his leg to get her bearings. He touched her hair, and placed a wayward curl behind her ear. When she looked up at him, she saw love, relief and pain.

This was her first chance to begin to take in what had happened. She touched her neck and shivered. She was alive. Suddenly she felt her knees buckle. Athos leapt from his saddle and held her up, before she fell to the ground. He waited for her to nod acceptance of his help, and guided her slowly to sit beneath a nearby tree.

Once he had her seated, he stood away and when he looked back, d'Artagnan still sat in his saddle, leaning over his horse's neck – adrenaline leaving his body. Treville stood beneath him, taking the reins from his hands; grasping his knee, and whispering in his ear. Worry seized his heart.

He moved to assist, but Treville held up his hand to still him.

d'Artagnan then sat straight in his saddle, and carefully, with great effort began to dismount. He stood before his saddle, with his head pressed into his horse's neck, taking in slow measured breaths. Treville, put his hand on his back and waited.

Finally, d'Artagnan stepped away, and made his way toward Athos and Constance.

When he reached them, he looked to Athos, and reassured," I am just weary brother."

Athos took his arm and helped to lower him to the ground next to Constance.

She then reached for him, grabbed him, and held him close. She spoke softly to him, and kissed him gently on the lips. d'Artagnan placed his head in the crook of her neck and sighed deeply.

Athos left their side and joined his Captain by the water to help care for the horses.

When Athos approached, Treville held out his hand and smiled. Athos reached for it, and gripped tightly, "Well done my friend" praised Treville, as they shook hands. He clapped him on the back and squeezed his neck in affection.

Athos nodded, "We could not have pulled it off without you. Now we are outlaws together."

They stood together then in companionable silence, looking out over the water as the horses drank.

After some moments, Athos spoke first, "He has not recovered from the beating. I am not sure how much longer his stubbornness will hold him up." He looked then toward the pair entangled in each other's arms talking softly.

"She is traumatized", he continued, "but strong. Also, I sense something else, but cannot read it."

Treville looked also toward the two, "Then we rest here until dark. There is a full moon tonight. We will travel by her light."

Athos nodded, and went to bring in the horses to tether them. Treville moved to gather a meal that could be had without fire.

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As they held each other beneath the tree, Constance spoke to d'Artagnan of her love; of his bravery; and his skill. She declared how proud she was of him, and how grateful she was for his stubbornness and determination. "This is why I love you so", she whispered.

She could tell he was hurting, and though he held her tightly, his breathing was not strong.

But in between his pained breaths, he spoke of his devotion and passion for her, "I will love you always", he declared, and at that moment he slid down into her arms and lost consciousness.

She looked down at him, unsure of what was happening. She held him close and panic gripped her. She called out for Athos, who appeared as if by magic, lifting d'Artagnan from her arms and laying him prone on the grass. He felt the pulse at his neck and arranged his body in a comfortable position.

Constance shook with fear, "What is wrong? He claimed weariness, but it's something else isn't it?"

"The Red Guards beat him badly, and he is not recovered", he explained. "I will make a mixture for pain. We will let him rest, and leave out with the moon."

Athos then reached for her hand and gazed into her stricken eyes, "I promise to get you both to safety." Constance peered deeply into that gaze and believed him. She could see how d'Artagnan would follow him anywhere. His confidence pulled her in. His gift for command was evident.

She released her hand from his grip, slid closer to d'Artagnan and grabbed his hands. She lifted his hands to her lips, and kissed them, then held them to her cheek; feeling the strength in those hands and drawing that strength into herself.

As he went to prepare the mixture, Treville stopped him, and seized his elbow, "She is part of your family now." He turned to see Constance stroking d'Artagnan's hair. "I am glad of it."

Athos nodded, "She is much like d'Artagnan. Two strong wills will be a challenge."

With that said, he completed the mixture and handed it over to Constance, "When he is aware, get him to drink this. It will help him rest."

Constance took the mixture, and waited by d'Artagnan's side.

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Not long after, d'Artagnan began to moan and move around restlessly. His thoughts had him back at the prison, the blade descending, Constance praying; and then he opened his eyes, confusion clouding his memory.

Hadn't they rescued Constance? Where was he? Where was she? He sat up quickly and grabbed hold of his ribs as pain ripped through his upper body.

The sharpness of it caught him off guard and he could not breathe.

Constance, who had dozed off next to him, sat up just as suddenly, reaching for his shoulders, trying to bring him in close to her. "Breathe my love", she soothed, "I am here."

Upon hearing her voice, his body reacted instantly. He sagged into her arms and air entered his lungs.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, and kissed his cheeks, "All is well."

d'Artagnan wound his arms around her waist, and breathed in her scent, "Yes", he sighed.

Constance retrieved the mixture Athos had given to her from the ground and lifted the cup to his lips.

"Drink", she coaxed, "Athos says this will help you rest, and we ride at nightfall with the moon."

"Where is Athos?" he asked, "is he well?"

Constance turned her head, and tilted her body, so he could see Athos standing and looking out on the water, "There see", she smiled down at him, "he is well."

d'Artagnan made to leave her embrace, "He broods. I should speak with him."

Constance lifted her eyebrows, "You are to drink this and rest. I will speak with him on your behalf."

d'Artagnan nodded, deferred to her judgement, and drank the mixture. "Tell him I am fine." Constance nodded, and watched as his eyes grew heavy, never leaving her face. When sleep came, she stood and walked to the water's edge to speak with Athos.

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Athos stood near the water, deep in thought. His mind began to race ahead to safety in Giverny, a small out of the way village, he hoped the Red Guard would overlook. Getting to Aramis was paramount; but hopes for his rescue lay out of his hands. He wondered how Porthos fared, holding onto faith that he lived; and that their next move was to make their way to assist him with the capture of Vargas.

Thoughts of Anne skirted around the edges of his worries. He tried to not think of her, but gave up in defeat. He could not help it. He hoped she was faring well and that her generosity extended beyond him, and perhaps to Aramis. She could bring about rescue, as she had rescued him and d'Artagnan from the prison grounds.

He could feel her essence around him, and wasn't sure what that meant. What was it that he was feeling? Athos then stood very still, and closed his mind to her. He could not think on her now. It would do no good.

Athos then became aware of Constance, and as she approached, asked, "How is he?"

She stopped at his shoulder and following his example, looked out over the water. "He says to tell you that he is fine." Athos chuckled and wondered at d'Artagnan's definition of fine.

"He is sleeping now, and asked the same of you earlier", she continued.

Athos looked to her, "With a few hours of rest, he should be able to ride." She noticed he had not answered d'Artagnan's query; and wondered if he hid an injury.

Silence then fell between them.

Constance stood quietly next to this man, wringing her hands together, uncertain of how to continue. d'Artagnan loved him so, and she felt a need for him to know her, if they were to share him. So, she stated hesitantly, "I want to thank you for helping to save my life."

Athos bowed his head slightly acknowledging her words of gratitude.

Treville sat nearby listening; wondering where this conversation was headed.

Constance looked up to the darkening sky, and took a deep breath to shore up her courage, "There's something I want to say Athos."

He inclined his head to show that he was listening.

"I love d'Artagnan very much. He is everything to me. These past few days have changed me greatly, but have not changed how I feel for him." She looked down at her feet. "I have been through hell, and have seen evil up close. Rochefort's paranoid suspicions have brought France to the brink of war. I want to help in any way that I can to bring Rochefort to justice."

Athos turned to look at her and tried to read her expression; but the falling darkness hid her meaning from him. Her words were all correctness, but the tone of it spoke revenge. She was much like his brother, only he spoke of vengeance plainly.

"If not for d'Artagnan, I don't believe I could survive the horrors I have witnessed." She turned to face him then, putting strength in her voice. "When this is all over, I plan to marry him Athos."

Athos broke eye contact with her, and looked to the ground, but she could see the slight smile on his lips.

"I know, that if you say, go with me here, d'Artagnan will follow you."

Athos reconnected with her gaze, "That is the life and the duty of a Musketeer", he interjected.

"No, Athos, where you lead, duty or no, d'Artagnan will follow. I only ask of you one thing."

He stood straight before her, "Name it."

"That where ever you take him; whatever journey or mission you are bound for, that when it is complete, you will bring him back to me."

Athos thought on how to answer. He could feel Treville's eyes on him, waiting for his response.

Decision made, he replied, "I will."

Constance released her breath. He did not promise it, but she was grateful for the pledge.

She turned and made her way back toward the trees and d'Artagnan.

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A few hours later, d'Artagnan awoke feeling better for his enforced rest. It did not pain him to breathe, and he swung his leg over the saddle, and pulled Constance up behind him without much effort.

The moon had risen in the night sky illuminating a bright iridescent glow. The path before them was clear.

"We should be in Giverny by morning", Athos announced as he and Treville took to their saddles.

They rode away carefully, hugging the tree line, toward safety.

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Thank you for reading! Please review. Thank you readers who reviewed chapter one and clicked the favorite and follow button. Your kind comments gave me the confidence to give chapter two a try.


	3. Chapter 3

Under Suspicion Chapter 3

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: This chapter takes place during the season two episode, The Accused, right as our group finds their way to sanctuary, and before they leave to meet up with Porthos and capture Vargas.

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They made it to Giverny without incident. The moonlight had done its job and the journey there had been relatively easy. No pursuit had crossed their path. Just as he had thought, small out of the way Giverny would not warrant notice by Rochefort and his Red Guard.

Athos sat on his mount looking across the village lines, relieved that he had chosen well.

d'Artagnan, Constance, and Treville looked to him now for what was to come next. He had thought this through back in Paris, and hoped things would fall into place. If things did not go as planned here, they would have to continue onto the border in search of Porthos. He needed this stop to go as planned. d'Artagnan was exhausted. The only thing that was keeping him going was Constance, and his seething anger. Constance looked worn to the bone, her face devoid of color. They all needed food and rest.

He had called a halt just outside the village limits, hidden amongst the trees. It was still dark, but soon, the sky would become dusky with the beginnings of the day. He needed to get in and back before the tiny village woke to its daily routine.

Athos turned to address his friends, "I will enter first and see to a place to stay." He dismounted and handed his reins over to Treville. The others followed suit, d'Artagnan lowering Constance to the ground gently from behind him, and once dismounted, standing close beside her.

"You know this place well?" Treville asked, peering over toward the small village.

Uncertain if the home he sought still stood, along with the occupants, Athos answered back, "Yes."

"And these people here will give us sanctuary?" Constance questioned.

Athos looked at the three, "I am hopeful." He paused for a moment and then spoke, "Wait here, and I will come back for you when all is settled."

As he turned to leave, d'Artagnan grabbed his arm, "I don't like this; you going off alone. What if the Red Guards are already here, and wait to ambush?"

Athos looked down at his hand and frowned, "Then they capture me alone, and you continue on to the border and assist Porthos."

d'Artagnan scowled back, set his jaw stubbornly, and attempted to object, when Treville stood between them, "It will not come to that", he insisted.

"But if it does, that is the plan", he said to Treville, but looked to d'Artagnan.

Treville clapped his back; d'Artagnan lowered his head; and Athos stepped across the line into Giverny.

d'Artagnan watched him go with trepidation; his mind swirling with what catastrophe could befall his brother without help. Treville took him by the shoulders and guided him further into the trees. Constance took his hand and followed.

As Athos slipped away, he hoped that Constance and Treville could temper d'Artagnan's impulse to come after him.

He did not think the Red Guards had made it here to ambush, but d'Artagnan's assessment was valid. This was a small village, with few streets, and a dwindling population. He would remain cautious.

It had been some years since he had been to Giverny; but by this moonlight, it looked as if nothing had changed. He held his pistol at his side, ready to defend as he hugged the sides of the bakery, and then the tavern. His destination was the home of the blacksmith, Edouard Babin.

Babin was a big barrel chested of a man, who he and Anne had met when they were just newlywed. Their meeting had been fortuitous. On their way to Paris one summer, their carriage wheel had hit a rut and split. They had sat stranded on the side of the road, hoping for a Good Samaritan, when Monsieur Babin came upon them in his cart. He said that he had taken a liking to the looks of them; spoke grandly of Giverny, and his outstanding skills as a blacksmith.

He offered to take them into the village, and come back with help to fix the wheel. Athos had agreed readily.

He remembered now, how he and Anne sat at the back of Monsieur Babin's cart, side by side, holding hands. He could not keep his eyes off her. She had captivated him, and his heart was full.

Athos shook his head to displace the memory. His only thought now should be to see if Monsieur Babin still lived; and if so he felt the man and his family would help them.

As Athos approached the dwelling, he scanned the village square and looked from building to building. Seeing only a quiet street, and nothing suspicious, he crossed the square and knocked on the door.

After some moments, the door opened slowly, and there stood Monsieur Babin. Athos let out a sigh of relief, and placed his pistol to the back of his sash. Monsieur Babin was still a large man, but was now somewhat stooped over, and his hair was grayer than he remembered. His eyes were heavy with sleep, and he wore a night shirt that fell to the floor and covered his bare feet.

Athos stood still before him, the moonlight shining down.

Babin looked to the man at his door with apprehension. This was an early hour, and most of Giverny would be in their beds. But this must be an emergency, "May I help you Monsieur?" he asked.

"I hope so Monsieur Babin." Athos spoke softly, so as not to draw attention and disturb the neighbors into peeping out of windows.

"Do I know you?" he asked curiously. And then the young man before him lifted his face, and smiled.

"Comte de la Fere?" he asked, surprised. He had not seen this young man in at least ten years. "Please come in."

Babin fully opened his door, and stepped aside. "Please sit", he implored as he shut the door.

Athos interrupted, "I must speak plain and quick to you Monsieur Babin. I need your help."

"Anything, son, anything." Babin then grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed both his cheeks. Athos lowered his head, and let his hair hide his face. Emotions reeled about in his head. He was about to ask much of this good man.

Babin then asked in a rush, "Is your wife here with you? Are you in trouble?"

"Yes, I am in trouble, and my friends wait for my return. I've come to ask if we may intrude on you. I am now a King's Musketeer, no longer Comte de la Fere. I regret that I am falsely accused, and under suspicion for treason against the King. We need somewhere safe to stay. I thought only of you."

Babin squeezed his shoulder, "Under suspicion for treason. That is not the boy I remember. Of course, you may stay here. I owe you that much for saving my son's life."

Athos nodded his thanks, "I must ask that you stay with friends while we are here. I do not wish you to be held in suspicion with us should we get caught."

"Of course, of course. I will stay with Benard…" Athos interjected, "the baker."

"Yes, but let me get dressed. There is stew still warm in the pot there. You may have it. I have drawn water for a bath here in my room. You may use it."

As Babin moved away, Athos looked to the small house. It was as he remembered it; the table, the fireplace, and the benches, – all the same.

Suddenly, he could picture he and Anne, here in this room, laughing with Madame Babin, as she told stories of how she and her husband of thirty years had met and fallen in love. He could even hear Anne say, "Thirty years! We have been married but one, can you imagine thirty years?" He had laughed with her. Then she had kissed him and smiled.

As Monsieur Babin re-entered the room dressed to leave, the image of his wife seated at the table, laughing disappeared. He took a breath and remembered his manners.

"Where is Madame Babin, is she well?" he asked.

Babin stilled, and looked to Athos with wet eyes, "She has passed on Comte, some three years now. She took with the fever, and could not recover. Many here in Giverny died that year." He made for his coat.

Athos lowered his head in respect, and then asked, "Peter how is Peter?"

Babin placed his hat on his head and shared, "My Peter has left to see the world. After Aime died, he did not wish to stay and learn the trade of a blacksmith. He wanted to see everything. Giverny could not hold him."

"I am sorry to hear this; that you are alone here. I think of you and this place often. Few people have shown me the kindness you and your family showed me that summer."

"Please don't be sorry. My life has been long, and will be longer still. I am happy to be of service to you Comte."

"It is Athos now. Please call me Athos."

"Well, Athos, my home is yours. Whatever is here, you may have."

"We will not intrude long", Athos promised.

"My Peter would not be seeing the world if it were not for you. What's mine is yours. If you need me, you know where I will be" he pointed across the square to the bakery."

"I must ask that no one else know we are here."

"Of course." With that, Babin went to cross the square to his friend. Suddenly he stopped and looked to the street where he remembered the Comte de la Fere, racing to grab and tackle his ten year old boy out of the way of a horse gone wild, covering him with his own body, protecting him from the biting and kicking animal; his Aime screaming in terror, and the new wife hugging and holding her back, preventing her from entering the street and injury. His boy, saved that day, ten years ago, by this man before him now.

Athos nodded, remembering also.

"Thank you Monsieur, I am in your debt", Athos said as they shook hands.

As Babin walked away, Athos closed the door behind him and left to retrieve his friends.

When he reached them, d'Artagnan raced to him, and gripped his arm tight, "You took so long", he exclaimed, his voice anxious, "I thought…."

"All is well d'Artagnan", he said as he held the hand holding onto his arm. "Follow me in", he said to them all, "we have a place to stay."

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Just as the sun broke through, Athos led the others to the home of Monsieur Babin. They entered quickly, having left the horses in the nearby smithy.

Once inside they went about securing the windows and the doors.

"How do you know of this place?" asked d'Artagnan.

"One day, when I am able to tell it, I will share that story with you", he promised.

d'Artagnan nodded and sat next to Constance at the one table. She looked physically weary, with dark circles under her eyes. Her once blue dress was now crusted with dirt. d'Artagnan held her hand, and rubbed her fingers; feeling the slight tremors there. She gave him a quick smile, and squeezed his hand, "I'm alright" she reassured him.

Treville leaned against the far wall, unsure if he should sit or remain standing. He felt, if he sat, he would not be able to get back up.

Athos looked to the tired group, "Let us look to ourselves, take care of the horses, eat and rest. Our aim is to meet up with Porthos by tomorrow."

As they looked around the small home, Constance came across the tub of water, and also a set of boy's pants; boots and women's clothing stacked neatly in a wardrobe. "Do you think it would be alright if I…" She pointed to the bath, and held up the pants she found.

Athos nodded his assent, and Constance left them to bathe, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Treville gravitated to the pot of stew and began to stir and look for bowls and utensils.

Athos noticed that d'Artagnan had not moved from the table, and he sat uncomfortably, holding his arms tightly around his rib cage. His face still held the darkening bruises from his beating and the pain around his eyes was obvious. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

d'Artagnan answered, "I am better."

"Would you like…", before he could finish, d'Artagnan interrupted with, "no more mixture for pain. I want to keep my wits about me."

"If you do not rest, you will be no good to Porthos."

d'Artagnan stood grabbing his ribs and raised his voice, "I will not rest then, until I see him safe with Vargas in tow."

d'Artagnan then struggled for breath, and sat back down heavily on the bench.

Athos looked to him, and kept his voice even, "Your anger toward me is misplaced. I am on your side."

d'Artagnan leaned over in pain, and lowered his voice, "One shot is all I'll need."

Athos was determined to stay calm in the face of d'Artagnan's anger. He looked to see Constance entering the room, dressed now in Madame Babin's dress and Peter's pants and boots. He went to Treville, and retrieved a bowl of stew for her.

Treville, sensing the tension in the room, gave his voice of reason to the conversation, "Killing Rochefort will solve nothing."

Constance reached for her food, and agreed, "It is not the man we must destroy; it's his lies."

d'Artagnan stared at them all, incredulous at her words, and his anger rose, sparking his temper.

Athos reiterated, "Everything depends on getting Vargas to the King."

After much argument between them, Constance insisted that she join them to the border, and meet Porthos. "I watched him kill Lemay, an innocent man. Rochefort is as much my enemy as he is yours."

d'Artagnan saw nothing wrong with her point, and would not fight her on this. Constance he knew was a fighter, and nothing he would say could make her change her mind. He wouldn't want to. But he stood then and said to them all, "When the time comes, Rochefort is mine."

After this declaration, d'Artagnan stormed from the room, entering the spare, and paced back and forth as if in a cage.

Athos entered after him, watching as eventually he wore himself down, and sat on the floor, wincing, and holding his breath, to keep from causing himself more pain.

"Here" Athos knelt down in front of him, and presented the cup of pain mixture. "Drink this, and rest."

d'Artagnan placed the cup at his side, "You are right, I am not angry with you. I just hate what has happened."

Athos stood then, and looked down at his friend, touched the top of his head, and repeated, "Drink and rest."

As he left the room, Constance entered, and sat with d'Artagnan on the floor. When he turned back, he had lifted the cup to drink.

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As time passed, unable to rest, Treville excused himself to see to the horses. Constance and d'Artagnan slept side by side on the floor in each other's arms, breathing softly.

Athos sat before the empty fireplace, staring at the cold hearth, thinking of the past and the memories this house held for him.

A knock at the door lifted him from his thoughts. Who could this be? Did Monsieur Babin need something? Had a neighbor come to ask for help from the blacksmith? Could it be the Red Guard, searching door to door?

Athos stood with his firearm ready, and approached the door, "Who is it", he called.

"It is I."

He knew that voice, and opened the door to her. Milady entered quickly, and shut it behind her.

They looked at each other, and for a moment had no words. Ten years slipped away, and they were newlywed again. Here in this room, laughing; sitting at that table with Aime and Edouard, joyously hugging with little Peter after saving his life.

Athos blinked, and the memories were chased back into the shadows.

"I knew you would come here", she breathed out.

"Small village, out of the way, and Monsieur Babin would do anything for you."

Athos nodded, and marveled at her ability to read and know him. They moved as one to sit at the table.

"I have news of Aramis", and as she began to speak, Treville entered the home, and could not bring himself to be surprised that Milady was somehow here with them in Giverny.

She gave them news of the travesty Rochefort called an inquest, in essence condemning Aramis to a painful death. The Queen was held prisoner in the palace, unable to see the Dauphin, the Lady Marguerite was dead by her own hand, and the King remained self-imposed.

Athos bowed his head, but Treville spoke the obvious, "We go to meet Porthos at nightfall. We will bring Vargas back to stand before the King, and denounce Rochefort."

Milady added her part to play, "I will do what I can for Aramis and if successful, bring him here."

Treville nodded and then stood to leave them to talk, but instead of speaking, Milady looked around the small home and gave the briefest of smiles, her eyes shown with memory.

Athos nodded, and smiled with her.

"You should rest, there is a bed through there", he pointed toward the bedroom.

She stood, looked toward the room, and then searched his face. She could feel the bond between them, and wished to solidify it. He could feel it too, she knew it.

"I'll stay here", he said; his voice husky with emotion. "You go and rest."

She moved toward the bedroom, and looked back at him, but he had already gone from the table to look out the window.

Daylight was coming to an end. In a few hours, she would head back to Paris and attempt to help Aramis, and he would head to the border between France and Spain.

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Thank you for reading; I hope chapter three was enjoyable. Thank you to everyone who reviewed favorited and followed chapter one and two. Please review chapter three, and let me know what you think! Your comments are appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Under Suspicion Chapter 4

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: This chapter takes place during the season two episode, Trial and Punishment. Our group races to assist Porthos on the border; and joyously reunite with Aramis.

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Chapter 4

As the sun set below the horizon, the small village of Giverny took on an ethereal quality. Mothers called to their children to come in from play. Shopkeepers began closing doors and shuttering windows. The tavern lights were extinguished; and the smell of baked goods wafted away into the evening air.

Athos could hear neighbors laughing and bidding good night to each other in the square. All of this seemed to him to be under a vaporous haze of other worldliness. Soon they would leave this idyllic village, perhaps not to return.

In the recesses of the spare room, he could hear d'Artagnan and Constance speaking quietly and tenderly to one another. Treville sat at the table, his hands folded, reflecting on what lay ahead.

Milady then entered the room, a curious countenance about her.

The gray evening sky then turned dark, and Athos summoned his friends and Milady to make their way to the smithy and their horses. It was time to prepare themselves for the ride to Perpignan and Porthos.

d'Artagnan and Constance moved quietly together, already it seemed in tune with the other's mannerisms. She moved slow and steady; and he quick and eager – but ending as one at the door ready to leave out.

Treville and Athos packed what food they could without leaving Monsieur Babin with nothing in his cupboard. Each then, took turns at the door, and one by one, left the small home and entered the smithy to not draw attention to their numbers.

When Athos finally entered the smithy, there stood Monsieur Babin holding the reins of a magnificent brown Peruvian Paso, saddled and ready to ride. As he drew near, the horse stamped his right hoof and let out a nicker, raising his head, with ears pricked in his direction.

Athos stood still, surprised to see Monsieur Babin. His companions stood to the sides of the smithy, holding the reins to their own horses, watching the exchange about to take place.

Babin moved closer holding the reins out to Athos, an anxious smile on his face. "Devoue is for you Comte", he said proudly. "He is a strong horse, and a good friend to me. I have raised him from a foal, and now ask that you take him with you." Babin patted the horse's neck and then stroked his nose.

Athos took the reins, and his throat constricted with emotion.

"He will ride hard for you, and see, he likes you already." Devoue nodded his head, inhaled quickly and puffed air through his nose.

Athos began, "I cannot….."

"But you will", interrupted Babin. He looked to the others. "I see you are short a mount to ride. I will not accept no. Devoue is yours to ride."

He held out his arms, and Athos willingly fell into his embrace. "Thank you Monsieur", he spoke softly. "I will return him to you unharmed."

"Ride safely my boy", he whispered in Athos' ear, "Remember, my home is always open to you. Devoue carries freshly baked bread and water in the saddlebags."

With that, Babin pulled back, and held Athos at arm's length. He looked at him with great concentration, seemed to come to some conclusion, and released him.

He then turned to Milady, reached for hand, and kissed it, smiling fondly at her. It had been a long time since a man had kissed her so respectfully. She squeezed his hand; and remembered his kindness to her those many years ago, and his devotion to his family.

Babin walked from the smithy, clearing his throat.

Athos stood still, the moment affecting him greatly. He stroked Devoue behind the ears, and spoke softly in his ear. The horse leaned his head forward as if listening. Milady stepped to his side, and touched his shoulder, understanding how touched he was. Athos gave her a slight smile and in that instant, she was his Anne.

Treville then spoke to them all, "There is no moon this night, but the sky is clear, and the stars shine brightly. We are in luck. Slow and steady is the key. Trust your mount. They will see better in the dark than we will."

Everyone nodded in agreement and began to mount.

d'Artagnan held the reins for Constance. She slid her foot in the stir up, and swung herself expertly into the saddle. d'Artagnan leapt into his own saddle, feeling rested and eager to get going. He felt better for the few hours of sleep he was able to get, and was grateful to Athos for forcing it on him.

Milady stood beside her horse, placed her hand on the pommel and waited. Teville moved to assist her, and she turned her back to him, refusing his help.

Athos, seeing the interaction between the two, held out his reins to his Captain, and stepped to her side. She lifted her knee to him, and he gently grabbed hold, and with little effort, lifted her to the seat of the saddle.

When she looked down at him, her dark hair fell over her shoulders, and her expression was unreadable.

He frowned up at her, wondering what she was thinking.

She then leaned down, and touched the side of his face, "I will see you here soon."

He nodded up at her. She nudged her horse, and left the smithy behind, heading toward Paris.

Treville stepped to his side, handed him the reins, and the two of them mounted their horses in unison.

"Let us ride", announced Athos.

They left the smithy, and rode away from Giverny, toward the border and Perpignan.

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As they rode toward the border, eyes adjusting to the night conditions, Athos calculated that they were making good time, and they should reach Perpignan within a matter of hours.

Moving with care and deliberate precision to protect their mounts helped. Also, that there was little to no traffic of travelers on the same path, aided in keeping their pace steady.

As Treville had noted, luck was with them. The stars were out in full order, casting enough light for them to see the ground before them.

After some time, Treville called for a halt to replenish them, and to ease the tensions caused by riding under the cover of darkness. He led them off the road and into the trees.

Sitting huddled together, with their horses standing guard over them, they began to eat, drink and strategize. d'Artagnan and Constance sat close, sharing a loaf of bread and water, giving their full attention as Treville spoke.

"Porthos will draw Vargas out as near to France as possible. If he is able, he will get him to cross the border over into France. Perpignan is the logical point of entry. Porthos will know that we will head there."

Athos nodded, and assessed their weapons situation, "We have three firearms between us; our swords, and sabers."

d'Artagnan reached for his sword, and handed it over to Constance, "I will give you this", he spoke. Constance reached for it, and placed it in the sash at her waist.

Treville then added, "Porthos left with four muskets. He is an excellent shot, and will reduce the number against us. With three muskets of our own, we must be precise, and shoot only if we need to. Sword play is our default, the saber will be our last line of defense."

Everyone nodded at his appraisal, and he continued, "When we reach the border, spread out, at least a mile apart. Constance will stay at our rear. At any sign of Porthos, we converge. He is the focal point, and we circle around it."

Constance sat straight, and looked to the men, "Why am I at the rear?" This was her fight too.

"To cover our backs, and alert us to trouble, and to also help keep the enemy between us", d'Artagnan explained.

Constance nodded her understanding, and gripped d'Artagnan's sword tightly.

Treville looked out over the landscape, as the sky made its turn from black to gray to a dull red. "The sun begins to rise. We should make it to Perpignan in a few hours if we ride hard."

Looking across at these three, Treville spoke plainly, "If we do not survive this campaign, I want you to know that it has been an honor. I have no regrets."

d'Artagnan frowned at his remarks, "Nothing is going to happen to us. Nothing will happen to Porthos, and we will save Aramis."

d'Artagnan stood to his feet, "It is Rochefort who should be thinking of death! I am confident we will succeed and we will bring Vargas before the King. You are the smartest and bravest men I know. This plan will work."

Constance then stood also, looking at d'Artagnan with fire in her eyes. They walked away side by side to mount their horses.

Athos gazed proudly at d'Artagnan and welcomed his speech. One day, he would be a great leader, and a great motivator of men. Perhaps he would even become a legend among the Musketeers. He hoped that he would live to see it.

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Devoue was a splendid animal. He rode hard, and smooth. He took the lead without effort, and Athos felt only his power and strength. That power along with d'Artagnan's determination, and Treville's tactical mind fed into his confidence.

His thoughts fell to Porthos, who was also a strategic genius. They would get there in time.

As they got closer to the border and found themselves near Perpignan, the four of them split and spread out as Treville had instructed. The trees around them provided some natural protection.

They rode like this for some time, until suddenly, gun shots could be heard ricocheting through the air.

Slowly, the four began to collapse in, and Treville saw the source of gun play. Spanish soldiers were moving toward a hillside. Porthos must be making his stand here. He stood tall in his saddle, hoping the others would see him, and leapt from his saddle hitting the ground hard, and running for the trees.

The others did see and followed suit.

Gun shots continued, and there through the foliage they could see Porthos on the ground, battling for his life, his great strength an asset as he reached for his saber, and ran his attacker through.

The four of them began to close in around the focal point, noticing two Spanish soldiers, and Vargas as the only enemy left standing.

Treville and Athos saw at the same time, the soldiers lift their weapons and aim, ready to fire on their friend. Without hesitation they took their shots and both soldiers dropped instantly dead.

As a unit, they closed in around Vargas, who dropped his weapons as if to surrender. But he held onto one last option, to shoot his way out, even if it meant his death. Vargas raised his firearm, as the three French Musketeers closed in on him.

Constance had heard the gun fire, and felt fear. This fear felt different from the brutality she received from her husband, and from her near execution. This was a fear born from her love for d'Artagnan. She could not see where he was, but knew she had to stand her ground, and defend this position, no matter what. Her heart screamed for her to go and find him, but she knew this was where she was expected to be.

Then, there was Vargas standing with his back to her, pulling out his firearm. And there was d'Artagnan in his line of fire.

Her instincts kicked in, and upon seeing d'Artagnan relief swelled inside her, and she raised her sword in his defense, and held it at Vargas' neck. "Surrender Monsieur", she said, with a hard edge to her voice.

Vargas dropped his weapon, and was incredulous, "You bring women to fight your battles?"

Constance took offense, and moved closer, sliding her blade across his neck, "Perhaps I bring men to fight mine", she parried.

Porthos then came walking toward them from the trees, and pushed Vargas roughly to the ground. He turned to take in the sight of his friends. His emotions simmered to the surface. He had gone from accepting death, to the happiness of reprieve in the blink of an eye.

d'Artagnan moved to Porthos swiftly, and grabbed him into a hard, tight embrace, clapping him sharply, almost forcefully on the back, and laughing as tears streaked his face.

Porthos squeezed him back, and lifted him bodily from the ground, laughing with him; rubbing his head; grabbing his face and touching their foreheads together. "You are alive" they both said simultaneously, and laughed the harder for it, hugging again.

Treville came from behind, and reached out his hand. Porthos grabbed it, and then pulled Treville into his arms. "It is good to see you", Treville said, feeling himself relax, just for this moment. He looked in Porthos' eyes, and knew that this man meant more to him, than just his friend; their bond grown stronger over truths revealed.

Porthos released his hold, "Perfect timing" he roared, smiling wide with joy.

Athos walked over to greet him, "You stayed alive."

Porthos grabbed him by the shoulders, "As did you!"

Porthos turned to greet Constance, surprise on his face, and held out his arms. She fell into his gentle embrace and hugged him back.

She then moved from Porthos and pulled d'Artagnan into her own arms. She had feared his death, but now taking fear's place, was this euphoria of victory and life. d'Artagnan kissed her lips and held her close; his pride in her, beaming through his smile. She had saved their lives! Only Constance could stare down their enemy, and lecture him at the same time. He laughed again, overcome with joy.

Vargas sat on the ground defeated, his men dead around him, one man, having caused such havoc. He was now a prisoner, and at their mercy.

He looked up at his captors, two of them but children, and one of those a woman.

Porthos stood looking into Athos's eyes and questioned, "Where is Aramis?" something dangerous bubbling to the surface.

Athos grabbed his forearms, "Taken prisoner by Rochefort; found guilty for treason; and set to be executed."

Porthos lowered his head, fighting an overwhelming emotion of rage. Athos felt the change instantly.

Porthos moved away, and turned to Vargas, staring down at him, "You will tell us of your plot against our King. You will confess that Rochefort is your spy, to bring down France."

Vargas spit at him, and turned away. Fury exploded behind Porthos' eyes, and he saw red. He grabbed Vargas' arm, and began to crush the bone. Vargas screamed in agony, but managed to show bravado.

Athos moved quickly, and pulled him away before he could break the man's arm.

"I will not betray my country", he screamed in pain.

"But you will", yelled d'Artagnan. "Rochefort has made plans to kill the Queen. If she dies, King Philip will look to you and kill you."

Athos stood over Vargas, "We are taking you back to France, where you will tell King Louis that Rochefort is a Spanish spy of your making. We must cut off the head of the serpent that uses suspicion as a weapon."

Vargas looked to these four, and knew he had no choice. He was cornered on all sides, and faced now a life of imprisonment, if King Louis was merciful, or death at the hands of his own King.

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On their way back to Giverny, with Vargas secured and pulled along behind them on his horse, Porthos insisted that they not stop, that they should ride straight to Paris. "We must get to Aramis", he persisted.

"I am hopeful that he already waits for us in Givery", Athos explained.

"How is that possible Athos? How is it possible that he waits, when you also tell me that he is held in prison waiting for execution?"

"Milady can get to him…" Athos began.

"And you trust her, with Aramis' life?" Porthos yelled.

Athos considered how he should answer, "I believe that if she is able, she will bring him out; and bring him to Giverny."

Porthos raised his eyebrow, "And what makes you think she will do this? With her neck on the line, she will look to save herself."

Athos stared straight ahead, "Because she has said it." He then pressed his heels and Devoue surged forward, pulling Vargas along behind him.

As Athos pulled away, they all looked to each other with uncertainty etched on their faces.

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When they reached Giverny, and entered the home of Babin, Athos found him there at the hearth making a meal of stew and in his wake this time Porthos and the prisoner Vargas added to their number of people invading his home.

Babin seemed unfazed and ordered everyone to sit, he will feed them. They look tired, worn and disappointed.

When Vargas is removed to be sequestered in the bedroom, with Treville guarding at the door, Babin placed his hand on Athos' shoulder, "You are disappointed that your wife is not here to greet you."

Athos smiled sadly, and reached for his hand. He speaks then of Devoue, and praised him as a valiant horse, "He would make a fine addition to the Musketeers."

Babin squeezed his shoulder and took his leave once again.

Porthos is more than disappointed. He is anxious and worried that they have miscalculated, and have put faith in a woman who has no conscience. He is worried that they have missed their chance to rescue Aramis.

He sits heavily at the table, and hides his face in his hands. Aramis, his best friend, may already be gone from him, and he did not get the chance to say things that needed to be said. A weight of sorrow began to fall heavy on him. What would his life be now?

d'Artagnan paced nearby, unable to stay still; his fear that the inseparables were lost had him on the verge of eruption. Rochefort must pay with his life! They should leave now! But Athos had said to wait. He had insisted with such certainty. What hold did that woman have over him? Whatever she was up to, he would not let her hurt Athos again.

Constance stood to the side, watching them all closely. She did not trust Milady. But these men; these Musketeers, she trusted completely. d'Artagnan, she trusted with her life.

So, even skeptical, she would wait.

And then a loud banging jarred them from their thoughts. On alert, Porthos threw Athos a pistol as he moved to the door; sensing who it was, he opened it, and there stood Aramis, smiling at them, holding out his arms. Milady followed behind him.

Athos grabbed him, pulled him into the room, and kissed his cheek, relief and gratitude making him light headed. Love for his brother, outweighed his usual reserve. Milady observed his joy and felt a pang of remorse.

When he released Aramis into the waiting arms of Porthos, he watched her leave the room to escape their rejoicing. He would seek her out later, and thank her for this sacrifice.

d'Artagnan then grabbed Aramis tight; Constance kissed his cheek.

They were now reunited – inseparable once more. It was time to confront Rochefort and save France.

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Thank you for reading! Please review, and let me know what you think. Your thoughts and comments mean a great deal. I am hopeful that Chapter 5 will be ready to post soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Under Suspicion Chapter 5

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: This chapter takes place during the Season Two Finale, Trial and Punishment. Aramis is rescued and reunited with the Musketeers.

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As Athos followed Milady into the spare room, Aramis sat at the table looking to his friends. His hands shook with exhaustion, his face a mixture of joy and trepidation. If he had not been able to sit, he knew he would have fallen down.

He shook his head and laughed softly. He was alive. Milady had promised and had done it; brought him safely to Giverny. His friends stood around him, tired; dirty; and disheveled; but happy to see him. He looked no better. He could feel the stench of imprisonment and terror still attached to him. But seeing his brothers had lifted some of it. The Lord had truly blessed him.

Porthos sat next to him, touching his arm; concern etched on his face. When Aramis had walked through that door, he had practically sagged to the floor with relief. He had thought his brother lost to him. He had been so sure not to trust that woman. He had been wrong. She had saved the life of the best of friends, his brother. He would forever be in her debt. Whatever she needed, he would retrieve. Whatever she asked of him, he would ensure. She had done this thing, saved his life, and risked her own.

Aramis reached across the table, grabbed Porthos' hand and held on tight. Porthos held back tighter. Any minute now, Aramis felt he was going to fall apart. He felt the fear and panic of their escape, and the hard ride begin to rise up in his throat; but the strength of Porthos' grip kept it at bay.

"You are here now; we are all here, together again", he heard Porthos say, his voice sounding far away and hollow; as if echoed through a deep cave.

Aramis nodded and tried to smile at him. His emotions did not feel true to him; he felt disconnected; and adrift. But Porthos was his anchor. If he kept hold of him, all the pieces threatening to fly apart would stay together.

Just hours ago, he had been chained like an animal; imprisoned; truth held before him as an accusation, used to humiliate his Queen and endanger his son. He had prayed to God, and prepared himself to die at the hands of a madman. Rochefort had been unbalanced, but now he had tipped over into lunacy.

His Queen and his son were still back there, in Paris, at his mercy.

Porthos could feel Aramis' hand trembling and knew the look on his face meant he was about to lose control.

d'Artagnan and Constance, sensing his unease, joined them at the table and sat quietly. Constance understood. To narrowly escape death took the strength from your body, and sanity from your mind. Without d'Artagnan she would be lost; defeated; and senseless to all things around her. He was her anchor, as she could see Porthos was his.

Treville left the door where he stood guard over Vargas, and moved to stand behind Aramis. He held his shoulder where the pauldron of the Musketeer sat. "It is good to see you, my friend", he said warmly. "We are ready to return to Paris together, and set matters right, as soon as you feel ready."

Aramis felt his Captain's hand and looked down at his pauldron. He filled his lungs with air, and took a steady breath, "Yes", he nodded, "we must return quickly. Rochefort has gone mad. The King still sequesters himself and the palace is in chaos."

d'Artagnan then spoke up, curiosity of Aramis' escape getting the better of him. "Tell us what happened. How did you get away?"

Aramis focused on their faces. How lucky he was the Lord had seen fit to bring these people into his life. Porthos' hand remained heavy in his, encouraging him to tell it. d'Artagnan and Constance stared at him with anticipation. Treville pulled up a chair to sit with them. It seemed they must know.

So he began, "Milady came and rescued me. Somehow she was able to enter the dungeons. I think she killed some people to get to me." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but then his voice cracked, "I had made peace with God, and was prepared to die when she showed up."

He paused and centered his mind on Prothos' hand holding his.

"When she told me you had survived the campaign to capture Vargas, and we were to meet you here, I lived again."

Aramis looked into each of their eyes. d'Artagnan smiled back at him.

"You best had come back to life", Porthos bellowed, "What would we do without you? Who would fix our hurts? Tell us stories? Lift our spirts?"

Aramis then gave a genuine smile that reached his eyes.

"Well, once away", he continued, "We rode hard. Milady was relentless. We stopped only once to see to ourselves and to drink. She was determined to get here, and only spoke to me once the whole journey."

"What did she say?" d'Artagnan wanted to know.

"That she had promised."

Constance pondered on this, and repeated, "That she had promised? Promised what?"

"She did not say, but I can only guess that she has kept it, judging by Athos' reaction."

d'Artagnan countered with a perplexed look on his face, "I don't understand her."

"That she went back for you, and saved your life, is all I need to understand", Porthos uttered as he searched Aramis' face.

Treville stood then, "There is food.."

Constance stood to her feet as well, "I'll get some for you". She left the table, and d'Artagnan followed. Treville went back to the door to stand and watch over the prisoner.

Porthos and Aramis remained seated at the table. "God has seen fit to answer my prayers Porthos. In his infinite capacity for love, he sees something in me worth saving."

"Then, I thank him Aramis, because you are worth saving."

Aramis looked down and inward. He could see that Porthos believed what he said – but it was not true. When he had heard from Milady that Marguerite had taken her life, he knew he was not worthy. He had used her unmercifully, to feel the joy of his son in his arms. He had witnessed her agony at his trial. Her death was on his hands.

He opened his hands wide, and stared down into them reliving her anguish, her tortured screams as she was pulled from the inquest. He would never forgive himself.

Porthos, sensing Aramis lost in thought, squeezed his hand again, until it closed.

With the energy finally leaving his body, Aramis placed his head on the table and shook with small tremors all over his body. The pain, exhaustion and tension from the day's events, was finally finding release.

Porthos placed his hand on his neck and sat; having no words.

Constance moved toward them with food, but d'Artagnan pulled her away, and they sat by the hearth, facing each other, holding hands; counting their own blessings.

Treville turned to face away, to give Aramis some sense of privacy and caught Vargas watching, with contempt on his face. He entered the room with Vargas, and shut the door behind him.

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After a while, Aramis sat up straight and wiped his face. Porthos stood and retrieved the meal and placed it in front of him. "Eat; you will need your strength. We go back soon to bring Rochefort to his knees."

Aramis looked down at the meal, and though he thought he was not hungry, and would not be able to eat – he devoured the meal and had seconds.

d'Artagnan joined them then and ate as well – feeling the strength in his body returning every hour. He no longer ached all over, and his ribs only gave him a slight twinge. He was ready to do battle. His mind was set on delivering the final blow to bring down their enemy.

Porthos felt the shift of energy in the room; - he was ready to go as well. All of his family were together now, and there was but one more step to take.

Finishing his meal d'Artagnan could take the inactivity no longer. He bounded from his seat and went for the spare room, and entered without knocking. He waited at the door, and there stood Athos and Milady, close to each other – almost intimate.

He was glad to interrupt. Mistrust creeping into his feelings about her, even though she had risked her life to save Aramis.

From the doorway, he called out to Athos, "We should go now and take Vargas to Paris." He knew he sounded petulant, but could not stop himself. As he turned and left them, he vowed in that moment to not let her hurt him again.

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As d'Artagnan made his wishes known, and left the room, Athos turned from her to follow. He did not understand his emotions.

She spoke of change; of their bond; of leaving France. When she had asked if he would care, he honestly did not know; except a pain had pierced his chest for a moment.

What was it he felt for her? Here back in this house, after ten years, he had seen glimpses of his Anne. She had smiled openly; showed him comfort; and treated Monsieur Babin with respect and caring.

But who was that woman, he had married all those years ago? She had been invented with lies on top of lies.

She spoke of trust; and it was true, he did know her, and she him, as no one else could; but to love her again?

As they left the room, she walked past him, and when she looked back, he saw hope there. Was there hope for them? There was unspeakable cruelty between them, but also something else.

Athos' thoughts were interrupted as Porthos stepped to her, "Milady" he began with sincerity "I'd like to thank you for saving Aramis' life."

She turned her gaze from Athos to look at him, "Athos has already thanked me, but Aramis would tell you, it had nothing to do with me. It was God's will."

"Then, I thank God, he sent you."

She inclined her head and with that Milady left the small home and closed the door behind her."

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As the door closed softly, the room seemed to take a collective sigh of relief, and all eyes turned to Athos.

He bowed his head to hide the confusion he felt and was glad when Treville spoke, "We should leave now. Time is of the essence. The King must know the truth."

Athos gathered himself, and faced his friends, "Then let us ready ourselves and ride. And you", he pointed at Vargas, who stood by arrogantly "will convince the King of your treachery, and that Rochefort spies for Spain. This truth will strike the blow that saves France."

Vargas scowled at Athos' words, as Treville tied his hands together, preparing for the ride to Paris.

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To be continued.

Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to review. I like knowing what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

Under Suspicion Chapter 6

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: This story takes place during the season finale, Trial and Punishment. King Louis learns the truth.

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The sky was bright and cloudless. The weather was cool; crisp and served them well. They would not stop. It was decided that they would ride on to Paris with no break, no rest, and no food. This way the journey to Paris would be swift. It was now only a matter of hours.

Athos sat upon Devoue, and let his strength and sure footedness take the lead. He did not have to push him hard. The horse felt his urgency and surged forward with little encouragement.

Behind him, with his hands tied tightly together, Vargas did what he could to hold onto the pommel of his saddle. He also felt the power of Devoue. Athos held him and by extension his horse tethered, following in his wake. If he did not hold on, he would fall. Death by dragging did not appeal to him. Death by firing squad, or hanging, or a life time of torture, and imprisonment did not appeal to him; but these were his choices.

His gaze wondered to the Musketeer who had single handedly brought him low. If there was any chance at all – he would find a way to kill this man. He alone, had disgraced and humiliated him; killed his men one by one; and now forced him to make this treacherous ride to put a stain on his country. This could even lead to all-out war.

He turned away for some moments as he had to concentrate on holding onto his balance. Athos' pace was quick and rapid, with no thought of slowing down. His own horse struggled to keep up. Vargas was afraid he may not survive the trek; but after a while was able to regain his equilibrium.

He turned to look at this musketeer again, hatred and shame building up inside his chest. He had been bested by this man and his own arrogance.

But then he turned his thoughts inward, and there the face of his wife suddenly appeared to him. The last time he saw her, she had softly kissed the lids of his eyes – their code between them, which meant, they were to meet again soon.

He did so love her. She had born him three beautiful girls – all of them he now could see in his mind's eye.

He loved his country; and would do anything for her. He had been a loyal servant to King Philip.

He worshipped his family; and he would never see them again.

This insanity had not been the intention of Spain. To watch, discredit, cause dissension among the ranks; and gain intelligence – yes. Needless to say, it was not their intention to assassinate the Queen of France; the sister of King Philip or to have a lunatic at the seat of power.

Rochefort had extended himself; and reached heights he could not have foreseen.

If he confessed to his part, he would be betraying Rochefort, and in turn betraying his country; and thus bringing about his own demise. He had no choice.

He only hoped his family would not suffer much from his disgrace.

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Treville's mount pounded side by side with Devoue, keeping pace with some effort. He kneed him, patted his neck, and pressed him on.

He looked over to Athos and wondered what he was thinking. His face looked determined, and his body language, leaning forward over his horse's mane; spoke of urgency – but he could sense nothing else.

Treville knew that Athos would do whatever it took to bring this campaign to a satisfactory conclusion – the only conclusion, which was the King learning the truth of Rochefort's treason.

As he rode side by side with this man, he was saddened that he was no longer his Captain; but felt privileged to be a fellow Musketeer fighting by his side. He knew that Athos would make a fine Captain one day, and would carry the rank with distinction. He was a born leader, who commanded respect without having to ask for it; and his fellow Musketeers admired him. He lived honor and duty; and loved his brothers. These attributes outweighed his flaws.

If he should survive this, and if his opinion meant anything, he would recommend this man for the Captaincy. Athos would not like it, but he was the man for the job. If this all went the way he expected, France would soon be at war. And men like Athos were needed to lead.

He shook the thought from his mind; and the image of Porthos laughing hard, deep from his belly, flashed before his eyes.

War brought untold death, and he could not think on that now. Now, they must convince the King of Rochefort's duplicity.

He leaned forward, urging his horse to keep pace.

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Porthos rode alongside Aramis, their mounts pounding the miles beneath them in unison. They were finally at this point, and his anticipation grew as they drew closer to Paris.

He looked toward Vargas and caught the man staring at him with murderous intent. He could only laugh inside at the man's arrogance. He had his chance back at the border. It was in Vargas' best interest to confess his role in this conspiracy against France before the King. No one would be able to stop him from breaking his arm this time, in order to get him to talk.

His mind then fell on Aramis. There had been something underneath his words back in Giverny. There was something Aramis had wanted to say, he knew it. He knew the man well enough to know when he was hiding something.

Aramis had been through a lot. Waiting to die had been a sort of torture in and of itself. But no, he could feel an undertone there. His talk of worthiness; and God had bothered him then; and bothered him still. They were all just reunited; together again. He would like to keep it that way.

What had his friend promised God in prayer he wondered?

But for now, he had to put his personal concerns aside. The well-being of France was at stake.

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As his horse chewed up the miles, and pounded alongside his companions, Aramis could feel Porthos' gaze searching him.

What could he say to him; how could he explain?

He had prayed to God and made a solemn vow. When this was over, and if he survived it, he would give up his worldly ambitions, his duty to France, and tend to God's work. While imprisoned, and chained to that wall; he had time to reflect on all of the choices he had made recently.

He had hurt many; ruined the lives of people he loved, endangered his brothers, caused the untimely death of two innocent women, and brought his sins down upon his son.

A son that would never know of him; and as long as he lived, he would see to that secret.

He had prayed so hard for rescue, and God had answered him with her presence. Milady had killed to get to him. And God with his own sense of humor had used His words through her mouth. How fitting.

He would not let God down. But for now, he would keep his part of the bargain. He would survive and stand side by side with his brothers, protect his Queen and shelter his son.

If they survived this, he could give himself over to God with an open heart.

Porthos would understand. They all would understand.

He leaned over his horse, and pressed her to keep pace.

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Constance felt the strain of her horse's gait beneath her and urged him to keep going. They were close now; she could see the city just beyond the vast waste of land in front of her.

d'Artagnan stayed close and she was grateful, but knew he wanted to be up ahead riding alongside Athos.

When they left Giverny, she had felt his rising anger, and manic need to get Vargas to Paris, and to ultimately kill Rochefort. Her love was a formidable soldier, and it was that tenacity that had saved her from execution, and it would save France.

Once this was over, she would ask him to marry her. To be his wife; his partner; to love him; and to be by his side until death, was what she desperately wanted. She could share him with these Musketeers – she knew that with certainty.

This life she was choosing would be hard, but she could bare it. These past few days she saw how d'Artagnan could bring her so much joy between what hardness life could bring. In order to be whole; and to survive, she needed him; and he needed her. She could make him happy.

For now however, she had a duty to her Queen; to protect her and the Dauphin, with all that she had. d'Artagnan had taught her to fight with sword and musket. With these skills she would defend her Queen with her life.

She dug in her heels and pushed her horse onward.

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d'Artagnan rode steadily beside Constance; unwilling to leave her side; but also wanting to ride with Athos at the front. His mind had been consumed with revenge as soon as they had mounted in Giverny and headed for Paris.

His thoughts had already fast forwarded ahead. He could imagine it; see it – his was the thrust that would end Rochefort's life, and his threat against Constance. Add to that, his threat against his King and Queen would be over. But Constance was his life, and Rochefort had tried to take her away from him.

Athos had tried to teach him to control his emotions, and he really wanted to; but today he would use his fury to commence justice.

Now looking across to her, his mind began to settle; his heart beat slower; and the noise of range drifted away.

Just being near her, calmed his soul, to where now, he could think more clearly.

When this was over, he would ask her to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her; finding ways to make her happy. He hadn't much to offer. He had no money to speak of; no home to give her. The life of a Musketeer was hard – for the family it was harder. But whatever it took, he vowed to care for her, respect her, and give his heart only to her.

But right now, in this moment; at this hour, he must turn his thoughts to what awaited them in Paris. He let out a yell to spur his horse on.

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Out in front with Devoue, Athos' mind was clear. He thought only of getting to Paris, and presenting Vargas to the King.

Before setting off, he had purposely closed his mind to Anne. If he entertained her proposal to meet her at the crossroads now, it would drive him mad.

If his thoughts strayed to the possibility that one or all of them could die today, and that this may be the last time he saw them, he would be brought to his knees by the weight of it.

So before mounting, he shook the hands of his brothers; and hoped in his grip he had conveyed his love; pride; and respect.

Of course, d'Artagnan had chosen the moment to announce to them all that everything would go as planned, victory was certain and he saw no need to be maudlin. Everyone then had laughed, and rubbed is head for good luck.

Athos had then kissed Constance softly on her cheek. When he pulled back from her, she pierced him with a steady gaze; her message clear. He nodded then to her, indicating he had not forgotten his promise, and would keep it.

When he swung into his saddle, all concerns for his family fell away and duty became the priority.

When they finally reached the outskirts of Paris, there ahead of them was the palace. Athos called for a halt, and for everyone to dismount.

They would walk in from the bowels of the palace, just as Milady had shown them.

Entering had been easy; much too easy. Red Guards were nowhere to be seen; but caution was still in order. The palace was eerily quiet, with no courtiers walking the halls; and no servants running errands.

Their footsteps echoed loudly on the marble floors.

When they reached the top of the palace stairs, they split up. Aramis and Constance went in one direction, racing to protect the Queen, while the others moved in another direction to reach King Louis, with Vargas.

As they got closer to King Louis' rooms, the Red Guard appeared in force. Working stealthily and in unison, the Musketeers fought their way to the King, with Vargas protected between them.

Athos watched d'Artagnan's use of sword and musket and he swelled with pride. He fought smoothly today, with grace and poise – well beyond his experience. He, himself, felt as if he fought out of his body. He saw every move before it happened, every guard before he stepped forward; and knew what way d'Artagnan wanted to attack before he said it.

He could feel Porthos and Treville moving with them, and saw Vargas unconcerned for his own safety, confident the Musketeers would let no harm come to him.

They all worked as one, like a machine; communicating wordlessly. It felt euphoric.

d'Artagnan had been right. Everything was going as planned. All of the Red Guards were defeated. Not a blow had struck them down. Suddenly, silence fell over them, with only their heavy breathing heard in the cavernous hallway.

Athos looked to his brothers, and gestured with a nod, his acknowledgement of success; and a battle well fought. They moved together toward King Louis' rooms, their footsteps sounding as one.

When they finally reached his rooms, Porthos, burst through the doors holding his weapon out to the King in a show of deference.

King Louis looked to him with fear in his eyes; his body trembling; and his knees weak, "In the end, I'd rather be shot then stabbed", he whispered.

Porthos placed his weapon at his King's feet, "It's the end your Majesty; but not for you."

Treville spoke up hastily, "We have brought Vargas here to confess all to you; his treachery and Rochefort's deception."

King Louis pulled himself up to his full height; and strengthened his voice, "Confess what?"

Porthos reached for Vargas, pulled him forward; and pushed him down on his knees before the King, "If you wish to see Madrid again, speak!" He held on tight to Vargas' arm, thinking he might have to use force.

Vargas glared up at Porthos, and began to speak of torturing and then recruiting Rochefort to spy for Spain. He spoke of the intelligence he had passed on; he spoke of murder; deception….

The King began to feel dizzy, and Vargas' voice drifted off in to the air around him. It became hard to understand the words he was speaking. His legs became unsteady under him, and he sat heavily upon a plush sitting chair.

Suddenly he was deaf, his vision gone white; and his skin flushed hot turning his cheeks red.

Then his deafness turned to a loud buzzing in his ears. He had signed his wife's death warrant. He had given a decree to have his wife murdered by a traitor; a lunatic. He had been manipulated and used.

From far away he heard himself screaming over top of Vargas' confession, "The Queen, you must get to her – he has gone to kill her!"

The Three Musketeers rushed to leave and made haste to the Queen's residence. Once there, they were met by Rochefort moving toward them, pulling an embedded saber from his back. It seemed Aramis had made good in his defense of the Queen.

The Musketeers encircled him; and Athos commanded him to stand down. Vargas and Treville entered and took in the scene before them.

Rochefort moved toward them with the strength of insanity and would not surrender. He would fight these Musketeers to the bitter end. They had ruined him before, and had left him to rot in a Spanish prison. Now, they ruin him again, destroying him before the only person he ever loved. He had done this for her; betrayed France for her; reached for power, for her. But now he was alone.

He fought them all. Each one striking a blow against him; and then d'Artagnan stood before him.

And just as he had envisioned it, d'Artagnan gave the final thrust that ended Rochefort's life; and his hold on Constance, and the Royal Family. He let out a slow breath, and let contentment bring him ease.

As Rochefort lay dead, the King entered the room; his sweater loose on his shoulders; and his hair unkempt. But his back was straight, and his chin tilted up in haughtiness.

Everyone turned to watch him enter. The Musketeers bowed at the waist; Constance curtsied deeply and the Queen fell to her knees before him.

King Louis looked down at her and held out his hand to assist her to her feet, "My Queen." His voice was uncertain; his eyes spoke to her, asking for forgiveness. She had always been his friend; and his confidant. How could he have ever doubted? This was the mother of his child; the next King of France.

Queen Anne looked up into his eyes, reached for his hand, and stood before her King. She exuded strength, grace and fortitude. She closed her eyes briefly and swallowed down the terror of almost losing her life; her rosary beads still wrapped around her wrist. She had survived this.

When she opened her eyes again, the King had lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Together they walked hand in hand to where Rochefort lay dead. She was glad she had asked Aramis to refuse him his last rites. He was evil. She hoped God would forgive her.

The King then looked down on Rochefort with contempt furrowing his brow, and spit in his face – rage evident in the stiffness of his shoulders, the rigidity of his walk; and the clenching of his jaw. If he could, he would sentence him to death, and kill him all over again.

"Let us leave here", the Queen soothed; guiding him to the door. Together the royal couple walked away, leaving the Musketeers to finish the campaign.

Constance followed at a respectful distance, ready to give assistance to her Queen.

As she passed by d'Artagnan, she nodded to him and smiled. He touched her arm. Tomorrow, he would ask her to marry him.

Aramis lowered his head and watched his love move away. It would begin here. He could now fulfill his vow to God. When he lifted his face, a mask now covered his emotions. His Queen and his son were now safe, and he would begin life anew without them; and without his brothers.

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Thank you for reading. Please review! And thank you to all of you who have read this story and reviewed already. I have been overwhelmed by your comments. It means a lot to hear what readers think. Thank you to LisaRosa for your idea. Filling in the gaps for these last two episodes has been an enjoyable challenge.


	7. Chapter 7

Under Suspicion Chapter 7

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: This chapter takes place during the season finale, Trial and Punishment. The Musketeers are finally home and d'Artagnan asks Constance to marry him.

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Chapter 7

As the Musketeers made their way back from the undertaker, they were each quiet and restrained, riding side by side in companionable silence. The streets of Paris were winding down, with businesses shuttering up for the evening. The sun was setting and the horror of the past few days came whispering to an end. Soon the Paris night life would be out in full force, changing the tenor of the city.

The garrison, ahead of them, felt like a beacon of light. They were going home. As they drew closer, they could hear the sounds of evening activity; men shouting; and horses braying. It would be time for the dinner meal.

Athos pet Devoue affectionately to welcome him to the garrison. He thought then of Monsieur Babin; a good man who had helped to save their lives; and who had presented to him this magnificent and brave animal.

They stopped before the gate, four abreast, looking in; taking in the wonderful sounds.

Aramis lifted himself up and stood in his saddle, "A meal would be good right about now", he announced.

"I agree. I'm starving", Porthos pet his stomach emphatically.

"I could stand a bath!" d'Artagnan sniffed at his clothes and under his arms, making a face of disgust, then smelling his hair for good measure.

Athos looked to them and nodded in agreement on all counts. They urged their horses forward and crossed the gate into home.

Once inside, it seemed that all eyes turned in their direction and the clattering of evening noise ceased.

The stable boy ran to them to take their reins, smiling from ear to ear.

When they dismounted, he bowed his head politely, and Porthos rubbed it with energy; laughing down at him.

Then one by one a Musketeer here and there approached, hands out stretched; or arms wide open; with words of congratulations on their lips. This went on until they reached their table and sat wearily, thinking of food and bath.

And then, as if conjured up by telepathy, Serge appeared before them, bringing out plate after plate of their favorites.

d'Artagnan sat up straight and tall with renewed energy and dug in, smiling up at Serge in appreciation – savoring the taste of each bite with pleasure, a throaty hum, and a roll of his eyes. Serge smiled back at him, and gripped his shoulder – glad to see this boy home.

He then looked to the inseparables and nodded to them, acknowledging their return, happy now to see that maybe things would finally get back to normal. No one here had believed any of the talk bandied around about treason.

He turned and left them to eat, calling over his shoulder, and pinching his nose, "A bath has been drawn for you lot! The barrel is in the infirmary."

d'Artagnan began to shovel food quickly into his mouth, knowing the first to finish was the first to bathe.

Athos watched him with humor, "No need to rush d'Artagnan, you may go first." The others agreed wholeheartedly as they downed their own meal with relish.

d'Artagnan took a deep breath and smiled his thanks, and began to chew his food more slowly; swallowing down what was left in his swollen cheeks.

As they ate, there were no words between them, only a sense of tiredness and relief that at this moment, disaster had been averted, and they had survived to see another day.

His meal finished, d'Artagnan pushed his clean plate aside, and stood; then practically ran for the infirmary. The Three laughed softly and shook their heads fondly, eyes following their young friend.

"We have made it", Athos said to the two seated with him; placing his head in his hands, a slight shiver coursing up his spine. He could let go somewhat, now that d'Artagnan had left the table.

Aramis gazed at his two companions, and leaned over the table as if to say something; but thought better of it, and leaned back instead to look around him; slowly turning his head in all directions. This would be his home no more. Soon he would be leaving this behind.

Porthos watched Aramis with a steady eye. Something was going on there, but right now he was too tired and hungry to think on it. He would decipher it in time.

After some time had passed, Aramis stood from the table, "I believe gentlemen, it is my turn to access the barrel." He moved away from them and made his way to the infirmary.

"He is up to something", Porthos said aloud to Athos.

Athos lifted his head, "We are all thinking on our choices, I would imagine."

"Perhaps", Porthos said softly, and continued his meal.

When Aramis entered the infirmary, he caught sight of d'Artagnan lifting his head from under the water, gulping in a deep, satisfying breath.

"You are not finished yet?!" he exclaimed.

d'Artagnan startled, and reached for his shirt and pants, "Yes, yes, I'm done, and feel the better for it", he laughed.

d'Artagnan lifted himself from the water, and Aramis hissed in a breath. d'Artagnan's body was battered. His back bruised and molted; his ribs yellow and green; and his chest black and blue. "What has happened here", he said angrily, reaching to see closer.

"It is nothing Aramis. It barely hurts; I am better now." He hurriedly put on his pants and had his shirt over his head before Aramis could reach him.

"Settle your mind", he continued. "I am well."

Aramis then sat on a nearby cot and looked warily at d'Artagnan, who sensing unease sat next to him.

"Are you well d'Artagnan, really?" he insisted.

"Yes. I would not say it if it weren't so. Athos took good care of me, as did Constance."

Aramis nodded and looked warmly on d'Artagnan. He thought then how he would miss this boy; his energy; and love for life. He would miss watching him become a great Musketeer.

d'Artagnan then asked, "Are you well Aramis? You are worrying me."

Aramis sighed, and put reassurance into his gaze, "Of course. So, you will not let me look?" he pointed to his ribs.

d'Artagnan jumped to his feet, "No, you bathe. I will see you afterward" and he left the infirmary.

Aramis sat still for several moments, and then took his turn to bathe. The water felt good on his skin; and the soap in his hair spilled down into his eyes, but even that felt refreshing. If he could only clean his sins away as well as he could clean the dirt from his body, then life would be much simpler. He then sent a small prayer to God, hoping that a simpler life as a monk was what he had in store.

As he rinsed the soap from his hair, Porthos walked in and took a seat.

"How long are you going to be?" he began. "I've finished my meal. Can't you preen outside of the barrel?" He was grinning from ear to ear.

Aramis smiled at him, dipped under the water and came up free of soap. "Yes, I believe I can", he chuckled and reached for his clothes.

As he stepped away to dress, Porthos broached his concerns, "What is on your mind Aramis? What is it you're not telling us?"

"Porthos", he sighed, "do not worry so. I'm fine. I've just had time to wonder about my life that is all. Near death situations will do that."

He then really looked at Pothos, and saw the lines of weariness around his eyes. "You are tired my friend. When we are all clean of this filth, I would have you all come and stay with me this night. Yes?"

Porthos nodded, "Yes.", and Aramis left him to bathe, thinking that of his brothers; it would hurt most to leave Porthos behind. Tomorrow would be soon enough to break the news to them. Tomorrow he would tell them of his plan to resign his commission; and his promise to God. If he spoke of it today, they would only try to talk him out of it. And he did not wish to argue.

Athos entered the infirmary just as Porthos was pulling his shirt over his head.

"The water feels good, but not so clean now", he shared.

It did not matter to Athos. Being the last was always his privilege.

"Aramis has invited us to stay the night", he continued.

Athos nodded.

"Maybe we will learn what is going on with him."

Athos bowed his head, "d'Artagnan and he sit at the table to wait. They have procured wine", he laughed inwardly.

Porthos then left for him to bathe.

As Athos sat in the tepid water, he closed his eyes and felt all of the pent up energy slowly release from his body. d'Artagnan and Constance were safe. Rochefort was dead, and no longer posed a threat. The Queen, no longer under suspicion, was reunited with the King.

Athos opened his eyes; and thought; so that is what is on Aramis' mind.

Then his own thoughts fell inward to his wife. As he washed the dirt from his skin, he thought on what to make of her proposal. The day after tomorrow, she would be waiting for him at the crossroads, ready to leave for England.

He felt something for her; and knew their bond was deep; and would always be there between them. He would never be free from her. Suddenly, he realized – he did not want to be free from her. He slipped his head under the water and held his breath for several seconds.

In that quiet space, he saw the faces of his brothers, Constance, and her. He came to an understanding that she would always be a part of him; good or bad. He lifted his head and took a large breath; having come to no decision about accepting her proposal.

Just as he met his brothers at their table, Treville called to them from the walkway. It seemed he had taken up residence back in his old office and no one had stopped him. He had been their Captain after all, no matter what had been decreed.

When they entered, and he saw their faces before him, Treville smiled and then shook each of their hands, "We have survived and saved the monarchy. The King wishes to see us tomorrow at noon to thank you properly." He paused and looked to each of them.

"I am proud to call you not only Musketeers but also my friends."

"Pride and Glory", Porthos deadpanned, "two of my favorite things."

Everyone laughed as they leftTreville's office, heading next to get much needed rest before their audience with the King.

Armais called to his friends before following them out, "I will meet you along the way", and turned to look at his Captain. "I have something to ask of you my friend", and he closed the door behind him.

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When they reached Aramis' room, they found themselves happy to be together and in each other's company without having to think of death; escape; or dire straits.

The inseparables undressed and sat themselves upon the bed – positioning themselves for sleep. d'Artagnan being the youngest, retrieved the blankets and threw them on the floor, and flung himself after them, exhausted beyond exhausted.

Some hours later, d'Artagnan began to toss and turn. His mind filtered dreams of Constance ready to be executed; of their harrowing flight; and of killing Rochefot.

He sat up startled, at first unsure of where he was. He rubbed his eyes and concentrated. He was home at the garrison with his brothers. He could hear their soft snores above him. He lay back down on his blankets and tried to recapture sleep; but it was no good.

He began then to think of Constance, and the promise he had made to himself to ask her to marry him. Soon the details of it began to plague him, and he got up quietly and left the room, to make his way down to the yard where he could get some air and consider his plan of action. Today was the day he would propose.

While out in the yard, he paced back and forth, rehearsing in his mind what he would say to her. He needed just the right words to convey his love and devotion. He needed to convince her that he could take care of her; provide a life for her; and that he could make her happy.

But every time he spoke the words aloud, they did not sound quite right to his ear; there was not enough emphasis on love or finances.

Maybe, he should wait – save – find them a proper home.

He was beginning to make himself crazy. Suddenly the sun began to peep over the horizon; causing the sky to blush pink.

So he sat himself at the table and watched the sun rise. The sight of it was beautiful. It made him remember how glad he was to be alive; and that Constance loved him. That he and his brothers had survived; and the Royal Family was safe; and soon he would ask the most perfect woman in the world to marry him.

His palms began to sweat; his leg to shake; he bit his lip and tried to concentrate on what he should do. Should he kneel when he proposed? His father had told him, that when he asked his mother to marry him, he had kneeled.

He did not have a ring. Should he wait then, until he could purchase something?

What about her family? Who should he ask for permission? He could not remember, but he thought she had mentioned an uncle here in Paris.

His mind was whirling. The sun was already up, and today must be the day.

Athos walked across the garrison yard. When he had woken and found d'Artagnan gone, he had come looking. It was very quiet, as the yard had not yet begun to stir with the morning activities.

When he moved to sit next to d'Artagnan he noticed how tired and anxious he looked. He knew sleep must not have come easy. He did not seem to even notice his presence, and his mind seemed occupied and far away from this place.

Athos could not blame him. It had been a hard time for them all; and would take some time to recover from it. He was glad they had all come through the experience relatively unscathed; but knew there were scars they each had received that could not been seen.

But at this moment, d'Artagnan seemed to him overly skittish; and much too deep inside his own thoughts. Was he alright? His injuries had seemed to be healing nicely. Neither the Red Guards, nor Rochefort had struck a blow. Yet, he seemed injured in some way.

At that moment, Serge emerged with bread and wine; and placed it on the table. "Well good morning to our resident heroes", he said good naturedly.

d'Artagnan seemed to not hear him; and continued to look to the pinkish sky; and rub his sweaty palms on his pants.

Serge pointed; then jerked his thumb in d'Artagnan's direction, "He has the symptoms of love", he chortled. He then left to begin his day.

Athos looked back at d'Artagnan and now saw him differently. He was winding himself up for something.

Athos touched his shoulder, "What is it d'Artagnan?"

d'Artagnan startled and turned wide eyes to him. "Oh, Athos; I did not see you there." He turned again to consider the sky; and rubbed his hands together.

Athos took a measured look at him, "No, you did not. Tell me, what is on your mind?"

d'Artagnan turned to him, and without preamble poured out his heart's desire, "I wish to ask Constance to marry me today. But I have no ring to present; no money and no home to bring her to."

Athos nodded and smiled slightly, "Yes, those are obstacles."

d'Artagnan frowned, and gazed at him seriously, "I need to ask her today. Something tells me it must be today."

Athos leaned toward him, "Then ask her today."

d'Artagnan stood, and began to pace, "How do I do that exactly? I have rehearsed in my mind and practiced the words aloud. I want to tell her what I feel in my heart, but it's not quite sounding as I'd hoped." He paused and thought, "Perhaps a poem. Then I thought, maybe I should kneel."

He placed his head in his hands, groaning with anxiety.

He looked to the sky again, "The day moves swiftly, and I have yet to decide a course of action."

Athos actually laughed, "It is dawn."

d'Artagnan sighed deeply, "Please help me", he pleaded, turning his whole attention to his friend.

Athos looked down at the table and considered, "I have no good advice. My experience with proposals and marriage would not be helpful."

d'Artagnan continued to stare hard at him; looking to his mentor for words of wisdom.

Seeing d'Artagnan's distress, he looked down at his hand and pulled a small silver ring with the de la Fere crest from his pinky finger. He held it out, "Present this to her, and say, will you marry me."

d'Artagnan reached for the ring and held it carefully. "That was a gift to me from my mother. This is the first time I have removed it. I gladly give it to you to present to your bride."

d'Artagnan looked to refuse and hand it back, but Athos held up his hand, "You are my brother, are you not? Do not refuse me this. Present it to her, and do just as I say."

d'Artagnan repeated then, "Just say, will you marry me?"

Athos nodded, and looked to the sky, the sun now at its full strength. "And I agree that you should move swiftly."

d'Artagnan stood and held the ring tightly in his grip. "Will you stand with me Athos? When I marry, will you stand with me where my father would?"

Athos looked to this young man, and nodded past the constriction in his throat.

"Thank you brother", he then rushed from the yard; running into Aramis and Porthos as they entered.

d'Artagnan reached out to them, laughing; slapped them on their backs and then kissed their cheeks. "Good morning, "he shouted, "Isn't this the most wonderful day!"

Aramis looked after him chagrined, "What mood is this? We have barely escaped with our lives, and he is quite joyous."

Athos answered, "He rushes to propose marriage."

Aramis is incredulous; and saddened. He would not be here to see it.

Porthos demands, "Marriage is it? Don't you have to be grown to marry?"

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After changing into his best; and carefully placing his blue cape across his shoulders, d'Artagnan raced on foot to the palace.

When he got there, he paced in the court yard, rehearsing the many ways to say, will you marry me.

When one of the maids approached her in the palace, to point d'Artagnan out to her pacing in the grass, Constance knew immediately what this was. He had come to ask and she was ready. She had thought herself to ask him, but he had beaten her to it.

The night before, she had spoken to her Queen and informed her that she would be getting married soon. The Queen had not been surprised and as a token for her devotion, and service, had rushed and presented her with a dress to marry in.

Now, below her paced her love, treating this moment like a campaign. She did love him so.

Constance smoothed down the creased in her dress, and moved swiftly to the stairs. She could contain herself no longer, and ran full speed down them and out into the courtyard. When she reached his side, she stood still smiling at him in anticipation.

Sensing her approach, d'Artagnan turned to her; held up the ring for her to see; and just as Athos had instructed, spoke sincerely from his heart, "Will you marry me."

Constance threw her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear, "yes."

He hugged her tight, then stepped back from her holding the ring out to her. She spread her fingers out, and he placed the ring on her thumb, kissing it gently.

She had never been so happy in all her life. They embraced again, and held onto each other tight.

"Tomorrow then", he pressed, "tomorrow, we go to the chapel and wed."

She nodded in agreement. They held hands and walked side by side to a nearby bench in the garden; sat, and waited there together until noon.

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The End.

Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed. I have never written anything this long before in my life, and hope that you have enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think! As always your comments mean a great deal.


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